


Brittle Bones and Binary

by Rhidee



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: A lil meta, Angst, Multi, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-05-01 16:06:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5212154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhidee/pseuds/Rhidee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You miss them, huh?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You get the game 

You play the game

You win the game

You forget the game

That's how things go. That's how things ALWAYS go. The fifty scattered games on your computer is a testament to that, proof that this law is followed, time and time again. This time was different.

You get Undertale

You win Undertale

**You are left alone**

They're just code, right? So why does it hurt? Why does it feel like getting tossed out and forgotten, like being unknown by the ones you love?

Why does it hurt so much?

Some victory, huh?

The thing is, you love them all. Everyone. There isn't a single character you haven't come to love, to hold dear. Real life never did this.

They are happier, without you. Because with you, they are stuck. In the brief glimpse you saw, Sans seemed aware. You don't want to put him through it again, waking up to repeat the same day. No one deserves that.

So you try to find other ways to spend time with them. It's even less you than it was before, back when it was Frisk. Because now you aren't even making the choices. You're just reading a Fanfiction, Watching a playthrough, seeing some art. You are even more of an outside viewer than before.

They don't even know you were there, why would they miss you now that you're gone?

Your game sits, untouched. You hover over it daily. You won't reset. You can't. But you feel so alone. Everything in the game seems to be mocking this feeling.

You cry out...  
But nobody came.

They wouldn't, would they? They can't hear you. They're nothing but codes and sprites and 8bit theme songs. BScotch=1.0000 and suddenly Toriel remembers. You looked at the code, you didn't touch it.

...How scary it would be to imagine a world that looks exactly the same, except that you don't exist in it and how the world functions perfectly without you.

You are Gaster, in a way, aren't you?

You hear of him, but you've never played with code. It feels like it'd violate something, in a way. Like mind control.

They don't deserve the pain you want to cause them.

It, it's not that bad is it? Just code, just code, **just code....?** You could just tweak a bit, they'd never know, they're just code....1's and 0's in pixels.

Would you rob someone, if you knew noone would ever know? Would you take their perfect ending from them, just to repeat the same hard journey?

Would you hurt everyone just for another day?

Just a game, just some code  
**n o b o d y i s t h e r e . . .**

.

.

You don't reset.

You know you have one thing. The same Frisk has. You have determination. And you won't let you ruin their happy ending.

But you can't stop yourself.

.

.

You are the true villain. Every monster who attacks you had a reason, and never was it your harm. Wait. No.

They didn't attack you, did they. You're just a tag along. A sickness. A disease.

You are Chara. You know that Chara isn't you, as well. But Chara is nothing if not a representation of your own desires.

You relate with Asriel. Just reset again and again and again and never be alone, never be forgotten.

Never be bored.

Only the fearless may proceed. Brave ones, foolish ones. Both walk not the middle road.

You walk the middle road. You are not brave. You are not foolish.

You walk with acid in your veins and tears in your eyes.

You mess with the files. You're not yet gone enough to click reset. You hid them, the files that are your friends, you hide them in your computer. You title it UnderHaven.

What a joke.

You play again.

It doesn't remember you. It tells you how to move. They greet you for the first time. 

It doesn't feel the same.

They don't feel real, anymore.

They feel fake, or frozen. You prefer frozen, but you don't like to lie.

You do all of the stupid things you didn't do. You put lesser dog until there isn't a part of the screen that isn't lesser dog. You play the piano in Waterfall, you do it all.

You see the end again and are left alone.

You realize now.

Kids like you, will never be satisfied.

You'll just be alone.

...

Code doesn't care if you kill it. Code can't feel. 

**T h e y w o n ' t f o r g e t , n o w .**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was almost another thing for http://undertalepromptfeast.tumblr.com/ and I was going to write another chapter of something else.  
> Instead here we are.  
> I got dust on my face and tears in my eyes and my feet walk without me.


	2. Chapter 2

They're gone.

Not even their cheap imitations walk by anymore.

You have moved on. Past them. 

They are but a memory of friends once well known.

You don't recall them exactly as they were. You cannot accurately describe them.

They seem flat, without depth, in your memories.

You walk.

Outside, the ground is cold, dirt coating your feet.

You walk.

Rocks fall as you cross ledges. 

You walk.

The moon is full above you. Smiling. The last one left to do so.

You walk.

The air is crisp. There are no sounds but your own feet walking.

You walk.

You stumble into a tree, and its bark scrapes you.

You walk.

There is nobody left to offer you a break. Nobody left to care if you get hurt.

You walk.

You are alone.

You walk.

Leave crunch beneath your feet now. It seems everything you touch has died.

You walk.

You made your decisions. You chose your path. So why do you feel so....

You walk.

Empty? Like who you were has changed, like what you've been is...less. Than before. That

You walk.

nothing you've done is you, really. That you're out of tune with

You walk.

your own self. Like you lost yourself, along the way. That

You walk.

despite everything....

You walk.

it's not you?


	3. Chapter 3

You stare at the peak of Mt Ebbot. The moon still smiling down. It is silent, as silent as a forest can be. Hushed, as if holding it's breath for an event that will never happen.

The breeze blows softly.  Dust comes off your skin and onto the ground below you.  Somewhere, far from here, you read a book.  The book told you something important.

At funerals, monster dust is sprinkled on their favorite thing, so they can live on with it.

It's nice to feel important.

You suppose that, even if they never saw the sky, they are here with you now.

Free.

You turn away.

There is nothing for you there.

Maybe there never was.

Maybe you broke it along the way.

Like you break everything.

Everyone.

The knife cuts your hand as you hold it.

Tight.

Too tight.

Too tight for one little kid, who one day fell down.  

Fell down farther than you knew was possible.  Fell down and then kept falling.

Fell down, and made sure everyone else did too.

You think you had a name once.  Something that made you who you are.

Names have power.  You drag your dusty hands across a tree.

In the old stories, names held you together.  A full name could be used for witchcraft.  To put a curse on someone.

A splinter lodges in your hand, but you do not feel.

A full name of a fairy or demon, and they had to listen to you.  A command.  Something unshakable.

A name.  The summery of all a person is.  No more than seven words, to seal the fate.

You stop and tense.  It's so quiet.

The leaves rustle in the wind.  The air, so fresh and crisp.  Sensations lost in a cave. 

You think you had a name.  Maybe you do now.  Somewhere else, somewhere warmer.  Somewhere with none of the feelings you feel right now.

Cut hand, chapped lips, scrapped knees.  All caked in dust.  You feel it in your lungs.  In your eyes.

You feel your sins crawling on your back.

But it isn't enough.  Because you have nothing left.

No friends.  No name.  No guilt.  No enemies.

Nobody left to fight.  No more dust.

You have it all.

You walk, and you think for a minute, almost as if you can feel, as if you have sentiment, rising from deep inside you.

Of a mother, so kind and loving.  Cold pie left on a stove.  A box full of shoes, much too small.  Jokes, never said.  A family, never regained.

Of a skeleton and his brother, in a house so full of love.  A race car bed and a room that would never open.  Notes written by voices that will never be heard again.  Tears from bone.

Of a child, so determined to be your friend.  A knife flash.  A warrior protecting, as they often do.  A house left alone, uncooked pasta in the cupboard.

Of a robot, or a ghost.  Who wanted to be a star.  Who wanted to be loved for who he was.  Who barely got to pose before falling and never getting up again.

Of a scientist.  Alone.  Scared.  Not seen, but no doubt destroyed.  Some secrets you can't hide.  Some places you can't escape.

Of your best friend.  Of a boy who tried his best, until there was nothing of him left.  A plant with no heart.  An actor with no part.

Of a king.  Who did his best.  Who was never enough.  Who put child after child to rest for the sake of his people.  Goodbye to all he loved, until he died.  Alone, as he always truly was.

Of _so many_   others.  Gone.  Forgotten.  Not even worth remembering.  A shy ghost.  A family of rabbits.  Guards, who didn't get to live before they died.  Of scientists and mothers and forgotten lovers, of dogs who just wanted pets, of forgotten army vets, of so many.  So many people you never met.

And now, it's just you.

Cut hand, chapped lips, scrapped knees.  All caked in dust.  You feel it in your lungs.  In your eyes.

And a tear falls.

And then another.

Silently, you cry.

Until nothing is left.

And then you stop.

You leave the knife at the root of a tree.

You shake dust off you, best you can.  If you are alone, at least they can be together.

You make the dust into a pile.  And you surround it with rocks.  Safety they never had.

And you straighten up.  Your hands, so small, empty.

Blood, dripping, smeared on everything you have touched.  Dust in that too.  Doesn't matter anymore.

You look, as you hadn't before.  The forest is spring green.  Buds peaking up from the dark dirt.  Growing from the dead into new life.

A creek burbles in the distance.  The birds, freshly awoken, chirp their joy for all to hear.  A possum mother and her kids walk by, too used to safety to see you as a threat.

The rising sun shines on the sinners of the world.  It warms your face, and the wind, free and uncaring of what you've done, ruffles your hair.

It really is a beautiful day outside.


End file.
